


Anonymous Asked...

by AnonymousSong



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidlock, kidjohn, something real quick, tumblrlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousSong/pseuds/AnonymousSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There, at the top of the page. A red box with a number one in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous Asked...

**Author's Note:**

> [Greglestrade](http://greglestrade.tumblr.com/) at Tumblr asked for this [[x](http://greglestrade.tumblr.com/post/73885711048/greglestrade-someone-write-a-fanfic-where-john)] and sparked my inspiration. It's short and dumb but whatevs, it was a cute idea :3 It also thankfully got my writing juices going again! //dives back into writing//

John huffed as he flopped down onto his bed. He stretched, his body shaking as he let loose a yawn. Throwing an arm across his face, John started to relax, already feeling that familiar pull of sleep.

“Christ, you smell like something died,” Harry commented, leaning against his door frame.

“Take a big ol’ whiff!” John kicked his muddy shoes off, stretching his toes.

“You are barbaric,” his sister scoffed, leaving him be.

John grinned to himself. He debated going back to his original plan of falling asleep but rolled off his bed instead. Shutting his door, John stripped out of his rugby uniform, tossing it in the corner. He stood in the middle of his bedroom in naught but his boxers for a few moments, basking in the freedom of having almost no clothes on.

Coming back to himself, John slide into his computer chair and booted up his computer. He scratched his head and his hand came away greasy. Perhaps a shower was in order.

He typed in his password and watched the screen load. It took a few clicks before music started from his speakers and John turned it up enough that he knew it would annoy Harry. Thankfully, his mum wasn’t to be home for another two hours, leaving him with plenty of time to get on Harry’s nerves. Served her right for dumping all his favourite tea out last week.

John logged into his email and started scrolling. There didn’t seem to be anything that needed his immediate attention- wait. He leaned forward to squint at the email.

_Tumblr - Anonymous asked you a question_

“Huh.” John pulled Tumblr up and logged in.

There, at the top of the page. A red box with a number one in it.

John never got Asks. He barely even used the site, having only gotten into it a month ago on a whim. He’d barely reblogged anything, tagged nothing, and written one post. 

He clicked the red box and it brought him to the Inbox. A single note was sitting inside.

_“Rugby or football?”_

John stared at the question, not exactly sure what to do with it. He opened another tab and scrolled through the pages of his blog, trying to figure out how the anon had guessed that he played a sport.

Going back to the message, John chewed on his lower lip for a few moments before shrugging. It was just a random question on the internet. What harm could it do?

He opened up the reply box and entered, “ _Rugby. How’d you know?_ ”

Clicking the Publish button, John clicked on the Dashboard. Might as well enjoy the website now that he’d remembered that it existed. He scrolled for a while, a smile quirking up occasionally when he ran across a particularly funny post. One gif of a cat falling off a shelf had him giggling like mad for a good five minutes before he reblogged it, tears in his eyes.

He was about to log off, jumping slightly when he realized that his mum would be home soon - where did the time go - when the red box appeared again.

The innocent little number one just stared at him.

John pursed his lips. He clicked on the box.

“ _Obvious. Blogging habits are statistically that of a ‘busy’ teenager prone to bouts of boredom, shown from your long hiatuses and sudden reappearances. You don’t reblog TV shows, meaning you haven’t been sucked into the fandoms here yet, suggesting that you still have a social life. The only post you’ve made was about Bill breaking his arm during some non-specific practice but you mentioned the grass stains. Two common rough sports played on grass by busy, sociable teenagers - Rugby or football?_ ”

John sat back, stunned. He went back to the one post he had written and, yes, he had mentioned the grass stains. He could still picture it, the green mixed with red as Bill howled in pain. 

Going back to his Inbox, John re-read the message. He highlighted it and checked the characters. Exactly 500.

Harry banged on his door. “Mum’s home, Johnny. Turn the music down and quit wanking.”

“I’m not wanking!”

“Yeah, all right. Wash your hands in boiling water before you do dinner - it’s your turn tonight.”

John huffed as he heard Harry stomp away from his door. Bloody nightmare of a sister. He stared at his computer screen for a few more moments, still thrown by the message.

Okay. So he had a stalker. Fine. Right.

He moved his mouse to delete the message but hesitated before he clicked it. Deciding against it, he glanced through the first page of his blog again. John knew all about internet safety. He’s had it shoved down his throat ever since he was a kid. Adults were always pulling their hair out about how there were lunatics online just waiting to snatch kids away in the night. He knew that.

John went back to stare at the message.

He clicked the reply button.

“ _That was amazing. Bit creepy, yes, but amazing. Well done, mate._ ”

John hit Publish before he could properly think about it and then quickly turned his screen off. He got up to shower and make dinner, pushing the strange messages from his mind.

\---

“John, you’re dripping your gross into the pasta.”

“It’s just water because I just had a shower. Go away, Harriet.”

“It’s Harry, you tosser.” She shoved him, nearing forcing him to topple the pot.

“Oh, you two. Stop it, both of you. Can we please have a night without yelling?” Jane Watson sighed as she came into the kitchen. She looked at her children, hands on her hips. “Please?”

“Sorry, Mum,” John apologized, going back to stirring the noodles.

Harry huffed. “Yeah, sorry. Sorry he’s an inchworm.”

“Harry. Darling, I love you.” Jane reached up and held her daughter’s head in her hands. “But you have got to calm down, okay?” She kissed Harry’s head before moving to the fridge to grab the milk. “Now set the table, all right, dear?”

Scowling, Harry moved to get the plates and silverware. John grinned to the pasta.

\---

After dinner, Harry flew out the door as soon as the bell rang. Jane barely had time to greet Clara before the two girls were off.

John washed the dishes while his mum dried. They exchanged small stories about their day. A silence eventually rolled around as they finished cleaning up.

“You just look so much like your father,” Jane said as John was drying his hands. She reached up and brushed the fringe away from his eyes. Gently, she pulled his head down so she could kiss his cheek. “Stop growing up.”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll get right on that.” 

She let him go, pushing him towards his room and demanding he get his schoolwork done. He smiled before heading down the hallway, back to his room. At the door, John glanced back to the sliver of the kitchen he could see. His mother was opening up a bottle of wine, a far look in her eyes.

John shut his door behind him. 

He dragged his backpack over to his desk, sitting down heavily in his chair. There wasn’t that much work for him to do… Convincing himself of that, John turned to his computer, turning the screen back on. It was still on his Tumblr Inbox page. Just for kicks, he refreshed it.

There was a new anonymous message.

“ _You really think so?_ ”

John wasn’t too sure on this anon. He wanted to just forget the messages; it was the smart thing to do.

He hit reply:

“ _Of course. Again, provided you didn’t actually stalk me on all that, yeah. Fantastic :)_ ”

John clicked Publish and quickly got off of Tumblr before he did something else stupid. 

\---

It was actually best that John only had a handful of followers on Tumblr. If he’d had any more, he was sure that he would have lost them with all the posts he’d been publishing.

“ _Wait, you smoke? Terrible news for breathing_ ,” he replied to his anonymous friend.

His blog had become mostly his replies. The anon, despite having been talking to him for nearly three weeks now, had refused to give an email or even come off of anon. But John continued talking to him - the anon had in fact confirmed that he was male three days after they had started messaging - even though he was sure that his mother would have heart failure about the whole thing.

John refreshed the page to see another red box at the top of his screen. He couldn’t help but grin as he clicked it.

“ _Oh, breathing. Breathing’s boring. The nicotine distracts me._ ”

“ _It’s also bad news for brainwork, genius :P How’re you going to go around deducing all of Tumblr when your lungs give out on you?_ ”

John sent the message. 

“Messaging your boyfriend?” Harry snickered from his doorway. John spun his seat around to glare at her. She crossed her arms, looking smug. “I’ve seen your Tumblr, Johnny boy. Talking to some anonymous git over the internet?”

“Leave off, Harry.”

“Ooh, defensive. You like him, don’t you? Bet he’s some psycho that’s going to come steal you away in the night.” She looked thoughtful. “Hope he does it soon. I want to convert your bedroom into a game room.”

John pushed himself off the chair and walked forward. He gripped the door in one hand and gave Harry a strained grin. “Fuckity bye.” He closed the door in her face, making sure to lock it behind him before going back to the computer.

“ _With that sort of lecturing, sounds like you’re thinking of becoming a doctor, John._ ”

\---

Mike settled down in a chair next to him. “All right, mate?”

John brought his arm down, giving up on trying to find signal on his phone. “Yeah. No internet in here.”

“Yeah, I think the librarian did something about that. Tired of guys watching porn in the corner or something. What’re you trying to look up?”

“Uh, expecting a reply from a friend.” John cleared his throat and flipped open a textbook.

“Bill got his cast off, did you see?”

“Yeah, I saw that wanker. He’s going to get it broken again at the rate he’s going.” John smiled despite it. He twirled a pencil around his fingers. Pulling out his phone again, John tried to see if the signal would appear.

\---

Their messages were going back and forth, rapid-fire. 

“ _What’re your thoughts on music?_ ”

“ _Oh, you can’t deduce it?_ ”

“ _You rarely blog anymore. I can only take so much out of your limited posts._ ”

“ _I’m saving this post for later, when you claim to know everything. Well, except that the planet GOES AROUND THE SUN._

_Anyway, I quite like music. Played the clarinet at school when I was younger._ ”

“ _The planetary movements are dull. I will never need to know about Mars or whatever those other planets are. How do you feel about the violin?_ ”

“ _You are unbelievable, you really are. It’s basic information!_

_Uh, the violin’s fine. Never actually seen one played in person but I’ve heard plenty in differents songs and stuff. Why? Do you play?_ ”

John didn’t have much of an image for his anonymous friend. He pictured a dark-haired bloke, both feet up on his chair, darkened eyes behind large glasses. And then it would change to a bored ginger. Or a skinny blond. All images were ridiculously smart and yet incredibly stupid.

He thought about this blank-faced kid, around his age, a violin on his shoulder, a long, low note floating through the air.

John refreshed his Inbox and sat up in his chair.

For almost going onto two months, John had been chatting with a grey face. A voice made up in his head, composed of black letters and punctuation.

**GetYourOwnMindPalace asked you:**

“ _Basic information, ha! The motions of the stars won’t tell me how a murderer managed to kill his victims. And yes, I’ve played the violin since I was a child._ ”

John stared at screen, at the link that would lead him to his friend. He barely hesitated before he clicked on the little icon of a skull.

He was taken to a blog with a black background with blue highlights. Across the top in bold letters:

**_The Science of Deduction_ **

There was an About page on the side. John couldn’t click on it fast enough.

Sherlock Holmes. Lived in London - so did he! - considered himself a genius - John had figured that out after the first message.

“Sherlock,” John said aloud. “Sherlock Holmes. Hmm.”

He went back to his Inbox.

“ _Well, what if a werewolf came and killed someone? You’d need to know the cycles of the moon for that. Or if a cult started doing something going by the rings of Saturn or something. You’d need to know._ ”

John hovered his mouse over the Publish. He knew that his friend - Sherlock - had most likely not hit Anon on accident. He should just continue as normal.

But that Publish Privately button was extremely tempting.

But what if Sherlock stopped talking to him?

Nearly two months of being on Anon… That’s really not wanting to be known.

John took a deep breath and clicked the private one. He stared as his screen as the message disappeared. Standing up, John went out into the kitchen.

His mother looked up, surprised. “Ooh? Has he emerged from the cave?”

“Ha ha,” John drawled. He pulled a glass down from the cabinet and poured himself a glass of milk.

“You’ve been holed up in your room lately?” She patted him on the arm and whispered, “I understand. Hormones. I’ll get you some more Kleenex next time I go to the shops.”

John choked on his milk, face burning. “M-mum!”

“It’s natural, John! It’s fine!”

“Okay, thanks, Mum. Yeah, all right.” John kept his eyes planted on the ground as he retreated back to his room. His mother’s laughter followed him.

There was a red box at the top of his screen. John shut his door and sat down. He clicked his Inbox.

**GetYourOwnMindPalace asked you:**

“ _Werewolves don’t exist, John, honestly. I will… allow that yes, cults may appear that perform according to certain planetary alignments. Yet information can be gathered then. The universe is vast and filled with so much that it would ill-advised if I kept it all in my Mind Palace._ ”

John smiled. He hadn’t gone back to the anonymous option. He had a name now, too. John searched up violin music in a separate tab and let it fill his room. It felt… right. He rolled his friend’s name through his mouth again.

“ _Yeah, so, what’s a Mind Palace, Sherlock? Don’t think I’ve heard of that._ ”

He clicked the Publish Privately and sat back, waiting for his friend to reply.


End file.
